The world is ugly
by aldualma
Summary: There's always some light in the deepest of the nights. Hazel will make him realize that.
1. Chapter 1

The World is ugly.

Chapter 1

I needed the air to hit my skin. I needed to get away from the deafening sound of the club's music. I needed to close my eyes. My ears were beating and so did my brain, so I stepped out through the back door. It looked like a private yard, surrounded by a metal grid on which I held in order not to faint for dizziness. I couldn't stand it anymore. I felt the cramps in my stomach and I wanted to vomit, but it simply didn't happen.  
A hand that seemed extremely cold touched my shoulder gently.

"Are you alright?" an unfamiliar voice asked me.

"What does it look like?" I answered grumpy.

After breathing deeply a few times, I turned around to let my back lay against the metal grid, and tried to make sense of things. But I lost my breath. He was magnificent. Sublime.

"It looks like… you're sweating and fever"

"It's called hangover" I said in response trying to copy the hostile tone I had used before, because otherwise I wouldn't have known how to react.

"It's called intoxication. The hangover is coming tomorrow" he corrected me this time, hiding a smile. When I looked down I noticed he was smoking weed, and asked for a puff. "It isn't the most sensible thing you can do now, but who am I to judge" he replied, extending his hand to spend the cigar.

"Exactly" I added before giving a long puff. I closed my eyes letting myself go, and expired out the smoke slowly. Probably my pathetic state would be extended, but it was worth.

"Normal girls don't do that" he said resting his hand against the railing, beside me, and I _heard his smile._

"Maybe it's because I'm not normal at all" I answered almost muttering. "I don't know what kind of girls you might consider normal, because I know many who smoke weed" I gave another long puff, and extended my hand to return the cigarette, with my eyes still closed. The music seemed to disappear far away into that place.

"Okey, maybe normal girls smoke weed, too. But still, you ain't normal"

I endured the temptation to open my eyes and see how close he was. I accepted feeling the freshness of his breath against my nose.

"Very flattering" I said trying to sound offended, but we both understood I wasn't "You're right, though"

"And you're proud of it"

"You're right again" I replied without even looking at him "I don't wanna be just one more of the rest"

"Then we're two" he said with his strange voice tone "I hope nobody else join us; otherwise we'd be just two more of the ones who doesn't want to be just one more"

"Maths ain't my thing; I wanna be a writer" I responded smiling slightly. I felt so much better.

"Have you ever written something?"

"I used to write much. I used to tell my life by making the characters with different names. I guess I don't seem too creative" Perhaps it was the alcohol in my blood that made me believe nonsense, but this man knew more 'bout me than my own boyfriend. Pathetic.

"I'm pretty sure you must've written something else. Something new, that you've never showed to anyone. If you go to college, somebody is gonna read your essays, you know?"

I couldn't stand it anymore, and opened my eyes quickly. It was as if he were reading my own thoughts. But what impacted me the most while I wasn't seeing him, disappeared when we made eye contact. I even forgot what I was thinking myself.

"I like to begin with a true fact. The rest I leave it to my imagination when I don't like reality"

"Or you leave it to weed"

"Don't give it credit of any of my works. It's just something… casual" I explained slightly indignant. I was proud of my essays and nothing or nobody else had the merit of them.

"I know. I write, too, and don't thank it to weed" he said trying to calm me down, but his closeness wasn't helping at all. And my curiosity for that man was growing more and more every second.

"What do you write?"

"Music"

"It's not the same as writing stories"

"I write the lyrics of the songs"

"Oh, freelance musician and low profile. Pretty poetic" I laughed making fun of him, and walked away from the gate to another corner of the yard, against my will.

"Singer-songwriter in fact, not a low profile. But pretty poetic" he said, adding a bit of sarcasm in the last sentence. "I'm in a band." He moved slowly but surely towards the other gate where lay my back

"Well, at least you don't say 'I've got a band'. The ego hasn't had such an effect yet"

"What do you know 'bout me?" he asked, no annoyance in his voice "you don't know me"

"You don't know me either, but described me perfectly" I replied without hiding my half grin. "Maybe I'll get lucky too"

"Maybe it hasn't been luck, but my instinct" he joked

"There goes the ego again" I joked too

He finished the distance between us in two long strides, and rested his side against the same fence I was in. While holding my breath, I felt him putting a lock of hair behind my ear, and I _felt_ his smirk. Then he took a puff, letting the smoke to the side opposite of ours, and finally laid his head against the fence too, surrendered. I closed my eyes. He was close enough to hear his breathing and feel it against my ear, regular and relaxed, reassuring me so unusually.

"Need a ride?" he whispered. It bothered me he had broken the silence, but he actually hadn't broken peace.

"I've got someone already" I lied in a whisper too, angry by the fact. I would've liked if he had given me a ride home. But I shook it off with a mental slap; I had a boyfriend, that's why I had lied.

"It must be a man" he chuckled and I had to laugh too, because of the irony of the fact. "Feeling better?"

"So much better"

But only the few minutes left in that place far from real world, smoking with him.

Next morning was awful, beginning with the hangover and then the fact that I arrived almost an hour late for lunch with Brent and his parents, with a zombie face and a stomach so not ready to have some food. He asked me what had happened when we went to order our food to the bar, since it was a tapas restaurant, and I told him Danielle had taken me to an UCLA's party without saying a word. He pissed off a little by the fact that I hadn't refused to stay, and I countered explaining there would be hundreds of parties like these when the fall begun, and I wasn't gonna ask him for permission to go.

"But I could go withcha" he stated firmly

"To Westwood? You're coming every Friday to Westwood?"

"Didn't we agree on hanging out every weekend?"

"Don't you trust me? I don't get it, Brent"

"Me neither. I'm just surprised you haven't told me, that's it, I guess" he said, looking at the bar. "It's actually pretty far, how did you manage?"

"A Danielle's friend is from that neighborhood, she picked us up in her car. Listen: we knew things were gonna be this way. I mean, you goin' to the USC and me to the UCLA is obviously goin' to change things. You're having your parties, your new bunch of friends, different subjects, professors I ain't gonna meet… and I'll have mine. And it's different, but it doesn't mean it isn't good, and it doesn't have to change EVERYTHING. We've already talked 'bout this"

"I know. It's just… it'll be weird without you, and I can't stand the thought of you meeting someone else…" I cut him off with my gaze instantly.

"Have we switched roles? Isn't that me who's supposed to be insecure, and you carefree? C'mon Brent, I trust you as you trust me. It'll be fine. Just… do not pretend to always know where I am. You can call and ask if you wanted to, but it's not my obligation to tell you."

"Are you scolding me?" he said funny, so I laughed and surrounded his neck with my arms to kiss him.

Lunchtime was boring as usually. Brent and his dad talked about football, politics and education while his mom and I ate and stare at each other in silence, trying to hide the bad time we were having. I got along with Brent ever since we first met in high school, but his father was a silent man who wasn't interested in me even though I didn't bother him at all, and his mother was a cold woman with acid comments, almost always diverted to me. A great mother-in-law. She had surely dreamed about a kind and sweet girl, English as her preferably, who'd helped her persuading Brent with her own desires for greatness.

In exchange for her selfishness, she got a girl raised in Milwaukee who didn't keep her opinions to her own and smoked 'till two years ago, when her mother-in-law almost pushed her to quit that bad habit. I guess it was the only good thing she did for me. I knew she always hated my pretty long, straight, messy hair, too. But most of all, she hated my arrogant and unfriendly personality –her words, not mine-. I would've loved to tell her about the Oedipus complex: men seeking brides like their mothers. However, for the sake of my relationship with Brent I had supported his high status family, as long as he supported my Milwaukee-mother with delusions of actress.

"You comin' with me today?" Brent asked me after we waved goodbye to his parents, and got into his car.

"Tomorrow's the big day, remember?" I replied emotionlessly.

"That's true. You sound effusive" He said with sarcasm.

"You don't know how much I'm looking forward to wake up early and travel to West Hollywood"

"C'mon. I'll take you home" stated turning on the engine.

"Not for so long" I had to smirk to the idea of sharing a college room with my best friend ever, so Brent nodded and pushed the accelerator while he turned up the sound of the stereo.

"Just for tonight. I bet you are gonna miss your mother's food"

"Hello, University Cafeteria" I faked a smile which made him laugh.


	2. Chapter 2

The World is ugly.

Chapter 2

My living nightmare was coming true. I already knew the campus, but seeing it again didn't chill me. I walked through the grass looking for Bryar unsuccessfully, while going to the cafeteria. Waiting for my turn on the queue I took a cigar, just to cheer me up the damn morning, when I noticed my lighter wasn't working anymore. I touched the in-front-of-me-girl's shoulder.

"Got a light?" I asked before she turned around, and while she did she answered:

"I quit smoking" smiled slightly. And I recognized her.

"You" I said astonished. It took her a few seconds more to understand what was going on, but her light blue-green eyes lit up when she realized who I was.

"You, the other day…"

"We met at the party,… Saturday" I explained just in case.

"Yeah" She answered, a kind smile forming on her face. "I've got no light, sorry" she repeated, and then turned around.

"Your first day here?" I asked her. Once again she let me see her face.

"Actually, yes. Is it yours, too?"

"Yep. I postponed it three whole years, so it was time now." I explained to her, after she ordered her coffee.

"Wow. I've just finished high school, so I'm definitely not ready for this" she muttered the last part.

"Trust me, it feels as if I ended high school just yesterday. Nothing has changed much" I smiled reassuringly and she grinned back. What a lie I had just told her. "So, what's your major?" I said casually, shooking the thoughts out of my mind.

"Literature. I'd like to be a writer."

"Oh, I remember _something_ 'bout that" I giggled.

"Yeah. Huge hangover, I had" She seemed to blush a little.

"You look better today… I _think"_ I ended the sentence not sure of myself. I couldn't remember _well enough._

"Feeling better, too. Or at least until I arrived here this morning"

"Um, are you staying at the UCLA?" I referred to college, asking if she was living in the campus.

"Yeah. Since today, I think so."

"But, weren't you guys supposed to move in like, a week before?"

"I know it would've been better, but I wasn't ready to leave home. I think I'm not ready, yet." She laughed.

"Well, it doesn't matter anymore, since you are here now."

"And what about you? Living here, too?"

"Oh, no. I live with my dad…" she gave me a confused look. "Yeah, I know, I'm 21, but many people live with their parents until like their early thirties…"

"I wasn't judging" she interrupted, uncomfortable.

"But anyway, I've been saving some money through this years, so I'm planning to go live with my little bro-Mickey"

"That sounds fun" She stated while being delivered her coffee. It was my turn on the queue.

"Coffee, and extra sugar, please." I ordered, and then turned to face her. She hadn't gone. "Yeah, I guess it's going to be like now, but in a smaller place. You see, my dad's rarely home. He's got these… congresses, pretty often."

"Um" she said in response, and then diverted her sight to the huge glass door. "I better get going, you know. First class starting in ten minutes and I'm not pretty good searching for classrooms."

"Could you hold on a little? I'm here for literature, too. Sorry I didn't told ya"

"Oh, really? Well then, I'll wait" She was surprised. "it's cool to know someone already" We smiled at each other.

"Hey, so… I'm in a band and…"

"I remember _some_ of that" she interrupted with a giggle.

"…we're playing Friday night at the campus. I'd like to see you there" I said waiting for a rejection.

"Sure. I'll go with my girlfriend, Danielle" I looked at her inquisitive.

"Um, is she just a friend or…"

"Oh, god," she cut me off "of course we're friends, she's been my best friend ever since junior year. Please!" She blushed but laughed anyway.

"I wasn't judging" I copied her words, teasing. "Just making sure. It wouldn't be a problem, though"

"No, because I'm friends with Danielle" She laughed once more about the talk.

"Sorry I'm so weird. Girlfriend, duh." I blushed slightly. "So, as I was saying… hope to see you guys there."

"Sure" She agreed again.

I got my coffee and we were out of the cafeteria before we knew it, walking to our first class. We both were a little nervous about the new college thing, so we tried to stay calm and went into class. We had a good time in there, the professor being nice, the topic seeming interesting, and with good company. It was nice to have someone to talk to on the very first day.

"So, I'm meeting my friend Bryar, who's on his first day too, when classes are over, and we're heading to my friend's job. Maybe you wanna come along…"

"Oh, I'd like to, but I have to meet my roommate and best friend Danielle, who isn't my couple, by the way" she added giggling, but not blushing anymore. "and we're going to get our stuff in place in our new room. So maybe next time."

"Yeah, of course."

We had to split up, because she had a different class to attend, and so we waved goodbye from a distance. That was when I realized I didn't know her name.

"Hey!" I yelled going her way. She turned to face me with a confused look. "You didn't tell me your name"

"Right. I'm Hazel"

"Gerard" I told her, and shook her hand, so she giggled. "See you then" I turned around to go.

My day had definitely not gone as wrong as I thought it would be. I had English class with Bryar and we had a lot of fun, and by lunchtime we both had had all of our classes. He wanted to go to his room so I joined him, and he introduced me to his roommate, Chace. He was just a year older than us, but he was finishing his major in journalism. I invited him to come over to Frank's job to have lunch, but he told us he had already arranged plans with her sister and her friend, who were freshmen.

"C'mon, Bryar, you can sort your room after eating. I'm starving!" I urged

"Okay, okay. Sorry for all this mess, Chace. I'll do something 'bout it as soon as I'm back" Bryar told his roommate.

"No problem, bro" he replied, and so we said goodbye and finally headed to the parking lot. My brother Mickey didn't answer his mobile, so we dropped by my place for a sec just to check if he was home and willing to join us for lunch.

I entered through the kitchen door and called out my dad and little bro, but nobody answered back. I went upstairs just to check out, and found a note next to my laptop.

"_A conference in Seattle came out this morning. Going home on Sunday, take care of yourselves. Love, Dad" _it said in his tidy letter. I smiled, thinking it only meant one thing.

Clearly Mickey wasn't home, so I stalked out of the house and found Bryar next to my motorbike in front of the house. I couldn't help but grin wildly.

"No sign of Mickey?"

"Nope. And no sign of my dad, neither. He left a note. Back on Sunday, which only means… After party at my place on Friday. What do you think?"

My good friend smirked and let out a cheer when I started the bike's engine.


End file.
